


Full Bloom

by fujoshism (fancypineapple)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancypineapple/pseuds/fujoshism
Summary: [Originally posted on January 3, 2014]Joonmyun doesn’t like roses – or, perhaps, she just doesn’t understand them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for suholidays 2013. the universe this fic is set in is acronychal, similar in some aspects to early twentieth century Europe. i'm glad the rose paragraph breakers work!!!! they really give the fic that "shitty pseudo-vintage romance novel" feel.

Joonmyun’s mother has a garden. A beautiful, enormous rose garden, the kind of garden that wins prizes, gains recognition, and takes over all of one’s free time. On the back side of their western-style mansion, the one Joonmyun has learned to associate with summertime and ennui, the rose garden covers several square miles with its variety of colors, shapes, and scents. For the first ten years of her life, Joonmyun loved the garden, ran along its endless corridors, spent entire afternoons near the fountain or, when it rained, sat under the gazebo’s roof, singing quietly to herself.

After leaving childhood behind, however, Joonmyun fell out of love with the roses, much preferring the music room, or the library, or going outside to have a picnic with her friends. Just as much as she started to look at herself in the mirror with a sense of boredom and incompleteness creeping around the corners of her eyes, she no longer saw beauty or originality in the garden’s varying hues of red and pink. If anything, there were days she despised them. Despised the roses, and the garden, and summertime.

She never told anyone, though. Joonmyun is a lady, one of the most well educated and refined of her time, and she’d never say something so rude about her mother’s masterpiece. On Sundays, when botanists and nobles came over to visit the garden, she’d try to smile with the same amount of pride that her mother displayed, as if she, too, loved the roses more than anything – or anyone – else.

After she turns thirteen, Joonmyun realizes she’d much rather stay in school for summer classes than going to the mansion, because she knows that in school she’ll have her classmates and teachers to talk to, and things beside playing the piano and rereading the same books to do. In the mansion’s library, there’s all but thirty books of fiction, and then hundreds and hundreds of books about roses. In the school’s library, Joonmyun finds all kinds of interesting stories, even ones that give her the feeling that she and her roommates shouldn’t be reading that, whispering and giggling when it’s way past bedtime. Yes… Joonmyun would much rather stay than spend three weeks in the lonely emptiness of the mansion, but her parents wouldn’t like that, and it’s not lady like to childishly demand something so egoistic. So, not once complaining, Joonmyun comes back every year, every summer, and admires the rose garden from the window of her room.

The year she turns sixteen, Joonmyun is tired. She has run out of songs to learn in the piano, and memorized each fictional story in the library. She figures she could try her hand at baking, but, at home economy classes in her school, she soon finds out that baking is much more tiresome than fun or educational. She dreads going back to the mansion so much that she loses her appetite for the last week of school, and her roommates worry about her.

“I’ll visit you,” Jongdae promises, her brows furrowed sadly as she combs Joonmyun’s hair with her favorite brush. For the past years, Joonmyun got used to having her hair brushed and braided by Jongdae before bedtime, all while listening to Jongdae and Baekhyun chat endlessly about their classmates and teachers. “I’ll visit you and bring the dirtiest books from my parents’ library for you to read.”

“If your parents let us, we could have a sleepover,” Baekhyun suggests, brushing her own hair with a much fancier brush. “Or maybe you could come to town! Grandma would love to have you over. She’d bake you sugar cookies and let you drink coffee. How’s that?”

Joonmyun smiles weakly. “I don’t think my parents would allow me,” she says weakly, smoothing the fabric of her nightgown. “At this age, they might fear I’ll bring shame to the family if I’m let out of their sight.”

“How could they? You’re such a proper lady,” Jongdae scrunches her nose. “You’ve never done anything remotely embarrassing to them. For what reason they’d be so weary of you?”

At that, Joonmyun shrugs. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Over the years, she has come to stop associating her parents’ approval with anything remotely fun.

“This year won’t be like the others,” Baekhyun stops brushing her hair in order to hold Joonmyun’s hand reassuringly, looking into the older girl’s eyes with seriousness rarely seen, thanks to her mischievous nature. “I promise. Jongdae and I won’t let you rot among your mother’s roses.”

And at that, Joonmyun laughs, because if she’s to die anytime soon, she’s sure it’ll be out of boredom, lost in that beautiful, dreadful garden.

 

 

 

And what a surprise it is when, as Joonmyun arrives at the mansion for that year’s summer, she finds out that things have changed not so slightly.

There’s a car beside her father’s in the garage. On Sundays, it’s not rare for the garage to be filled to the brim with black, sleek cars, with their wheels covered in mud from the trip as the scientists are guided inside by Mrs. Kim; when Joonmyun arrives, however, it’s a Saturday, and it’s very unusual for anyone to visit the mansion on any days beside Sunday, even if they’re relatives. Glancing at the old, slightly battered car as the chauffeur brings her luggage down from the trunk, Joonmyun faintly wonders who it might belong to. A friend of her father’s? A distant relative? Or, perhaps, someone she has been expecting for a long time?

“Joonmyun is here!” Joonmyun hears her father shout from the first floor. It’s the same every year. Joonmyun shall go in, be greeted by the maids and butlers, and hug her parents near the stairway as they ask her about the trip. She’ll give them vague answers, and climb to her room to unpack. Her mother will offer help, and she’ll refuse. They’ll then meet for dinner, and Joonmyun’s most hated weeks of the year will begin.

When she goes in, however, she finds strangers in the familiar scenery. The maids greet her like they always do, and so do the butlers, but, at the top of the stairway, two unknown people stand beside her parents. One of them is an old, small man, dressed in a worn out brown suit; the other is a young boy, even smaller than the old man, soberly clad in similar, but much newer, attire. Joonmyun faintly wonders if the boy is even old enough to be wearing anything but summer suits at that time of the year; then, she realizes it must be very rude to just stand still and silently stare.

“Good afternoon,” she greets with a brief curtsy, letting a maid take her hat and scarf to her room. At the top of the stairway, her mother smiles, and climbs down to give Joonmyun a hug.

“Welcome home, love,” she greets, and it’s the first time in years she has given Joonmyun such a warm greeting. Around them, the butlers are quick to pick up Joonmyun’s luggage. “We were so eager to see you at once! How was the trip?”

“Pleasant,” Joonmyun answers with a smile, glad to be received so well. “Such agreeable weather for a Saturday, too.”

“Indeed, it is,” her mother smiles back at her, turning around and standing beside Joonmyun so to showcase her to the two unknown visitors. “Gentlemen, this is my only daughter, Joonmyun. Joonmyun, these are Doctor Do Hwangsoo,” she gestures the old man, who makes a brief curtsy, “and his son and apprentice, Kyungsoo,” the boy makes the same curtsy, expression unchanging. “They’ll be residing with us for the summer. Doctor Do is one of the most influential living botanists of our time.”

“You flatter me, Mrs. Kim,” Do Hwangsoo says, brushing the compliments off timidly as he climbed down the stairs. His humbleness and lack of distinct elegance only help Joonmyun to be convinced that the man is a brilliant scientist, and the gentle way how he kisses her hand give Joonmyun the feeling that he must be a good person. “I apologise for imposing like this in your household. We promise not to bother you much.”

“Nonsense, Doctor,” Joonmyun replies with her gentlest smile. “It is an honor for me and my family to have such a brilliant man among us. We shan’t fail to provide you anything you need for your comfort.”

From the sidelines, Mrs. Kim watches, seeming to be proud of Joonmyun’s manners. It makes Joonmyun feel a bit lighter, much lighter than she had been the past week, when thoughts of summer weighed her down.

“You must be tired, darling,” says Mrs. Kim, walking towards Joonmyun and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack while I prepare the tea? Today, we’re intending to have tea at the garden. How’s that?”

They have tea at the garden every Sunday, when the weather is favorable. Usually, a big table is put together by the maids at the center of the garden, near the water fountain, and there they serve many refined snacks and a diverse variety of teas, and even Joonmyun, who feels rather out of place among all the rose enthusiasts, enjoys the event and eats to her heart’s contents. For today, Joonmyun is quite sure they won’t have a table as big as the one they have for Sunday, but her eyes brighten at the prospect.

“That would be lovely!” She exclaims happily, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Her mother’s smile widens.

“It’s settled then! Now if you excuse me,” she bids them all goodbye with a curtsy. As if following a cue, Do Hwangsoo immediately starts talking to Joonmyun’s father about something; probably a conversation they had put on hold when Joonmyun’s arrive was announced.

Seeing she has no business there, and that she still has to unpack and change her clothes, Joonmyun starts climbing up the stairs. As her father and Do Hwangsoo pass past her, she makes a small curtsy, which goes unnoticed by both – and as she turns around to resume her climb, her eyes are met with a glance from Do Kyungsoo.

It’s brief, but sudden, and the surprise makes her go still for the slightest of the seconds. The boy looks like he has been caught staring, and bows very timidly before scurrying off to follow the two adult men, who start to retreat to outside. It takes Joonmyun a minute for her to notice that her eyes followed Do Kyungsoo’s small frame, from the moment their eyes met to when he disappears behind the front door. When she does notice, she shakes her head, mentally chastising herself, and goes back to going up to her bedroom.

 

 

 

The tea is served at half past four, and Joonmyun’s eyes twinkle when she spots all her favorite treats on silver trays over the white linen tablecloth. Her mother looks subtly stunning in her best summer dress, gleaming like gold when Do Hwangsoo lets her talk about the roses; soon enough, her, the botanist, and Joonmyun’s father – not a botanist, nor a roses enthusiast, but a naturally curious man – find themselves engaged in a pleasant conversation about rose gardens, contests, rose breeds, and similar subjects. Joonmyun is all too used to that, and finds contentment in sitting the nearest she can of the fountain, a plate full of pastries placed on her lap.

Even though Joonmyun is quite sick of the garden for now, she can’t claim it to be a completely familiar sight. She has sat by the fountain several times in the past years, and there was always something new to see; a bush that had flowered more generously than the year before, or a new species blending in with the others, or even a complete change in the garden’s configuration. From what Joonmyun could remember from the past years, it seemed like her mother had decided to redirect the red roses to further back in the garden, leaving the surrounds of the fountain walled in pink. Joonmyun tries to picture the gazebo now; in the past, that had been an area of, mostly, white roses. Now, they’re probably red. Perhaps her mother was planning an expansion…

“Mind if I sit here?”

Joonmyun jumps slightly, and some crumbs fall from her plate onto her lap. When she looks up, she sees Do Kyungsoo, holding a teacup and a saucer, facing her with his perfectly neutral expression. Cursing her own rudeness at being surprised, she smiles sweetly at him, consenting with a, “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

He then sits down, putting a polite distance between himself and Joonmyun, and she can already feel the silence start to weigh on her shoulders. When she was a child, her mother taught her to always start conversations with your guests, but Joonmyun can’t claim to be the best at the art of conversation.

“I must apologize to you.” To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Kyungsoo who speaks. He sounds emotionless, polite. “I didn’t greet you properly when we first met. It was rude of me.”

“Oh, don’t mind!” She brushes it off. “It was indelicate of me not to greet you either. I, too, apologize.”

At that, Kyungsoo’s expression changes the slightest bit. There’s the faintest pull on the corner of his lips, and Joonmyun can’t tell if that’s a smile or an expression of distaste. However, it’s gone as soon as it came, and Kyungsoo rests his cup on his saucer in order to offer his hand to Joonmyun. “Enchanted to meet you, milady. My name is Do Kyungsoo.”

Now, Joonmyun is quite sure Kyungsoo is mocking her, but she can’t help but laugh. “The pleasure is all mine,” she says, offering her own hand timidly, but, instead of kissing it, Kyungsoo shakes it, like Joonmyun has seen men do to each other when scientists visit at Sundays. It has her at a loss, but Kyungsoo seems not to notice. Instead, he turns back to the table. “Mrs. Kim told me we’re about the same age,” he comments, taking a sip of his tea.

“Really?” Joonmyun tries not to look too surprised; it’s impolite. Kyungsoo nods.

“She said you’re all but two years older than me,” he adds, and now there’s no hiding Joonmyun’s surprise. Even though he isn’t looking directly at her, he seems to notice, and smiles for the first time. “Shocked?”

“You must forgive me,” she mutters, slightly ashamed. “I… you seem to be quite younger than that, Mr. Do.”

“Kyungsoo,” he corrects, smiling even wider. Yes, he must be definitely mocking her. “Since you’re older than me, there’s no need for such undeserved formality.”

“Mr. Kyungsoo it is, then,” she corrects herself, but it doesn’t seem to be what Kyungsoo meant, as he sighs almost imperceptibly. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve never met any boys my age, so I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.”

And at that – even though Joonmyun is sure she has said nothing funny – Kyungsoo lets out a quiet, brief laugh. The gesture seems to change his facial features, smoothen the sharp edges around his large, analytic eyes; Joonmyun blinks, a tad bit confused. But then again… perhaps he had found funny how a woman her age had never seen a young man before. Thinking from that angle, it was a quite strange thing to say. Joonmyun found herself regretting her poor conversational skills.

“Say, Miss Kim…” he starts suddenly, taking another sip of his tea. “Out of all the pastries on the table, which one is your favorite?”

She blinks, slightly taken aback by the change of subject. Within a brief minute of thought, she purses her lips. “Um…” her eyes scan the table while her brain lists all the treats she has had that afternoon. “The cream horns.” Then, remembering that she still has some on her plate – one of which has been bit already – she redirects her gaze to her lap. “They’re delicious, Mr. Kyungsoo. Would you like to try one?” she offers, raising her plate.

“May I?” He asks politely, even waiting for her confirmation before taking the intact cream horn. As Kyungsoo bites down on the pastry, Joonmyun decides that she, too, shouldn’t neglect hers; however, perhaps due to the nervousness of being in close companion with a stranger, she bites it too clumsily, causing the pastry to shower the plate and her lap with crumbs. Flushing bright red, Joonmyun tries to clean herself before Kyungsoo would notice, not wanting him to laugh at her again.

“This really is quite good,” he says, eyeing the pastry with certain amazement. “I had never tried one before.”

“I should ask my mother to serve it more often, then,” Joonmyun replies, noticing a smudge of cream near Kyungsoo’s mouth and debating whether to warn him or not. Ultimately, she decides to keep quiet about it. “The strawberry ones are my favorite, but there are other flavors that are just as good.”

Kyungsoo nods, taking another bite of the cream horn. Joonmyun watches him for a second, as if studying the way he eats, before turning back to her pastry. At that time, his tea must’ve certainly gotten cold. But then again, the glass of juice on Joonmyun’s right side has most certainly gotten warm…

“It was nice talking to you, Miss Kim,” Kyungsoo surprises Joonmyun by saying, and she’s even more surprise to see he’s already standing up; she would never have been able to finish a cream horn so fast. He fishes his handkerchief out of his blazer’s pocket, carefully cleaning his face before dusting the crumbs off his hand and pants. Then, he offers his hand to Joonmyun, who’s even more hesitant to offer her own this time, not sure of what he intends to do. Despite that, he accepts her hand gallantly – and this time, he kisses it properly, bowing forward in a spotless chivalrous gesture.

“We should speak again soon,” he adds before letting her hand go, a subtle hint of a smile on his lips, and leaving her side. He walks back to where the adults must be discussing the current politics of roses, and is received warmly into the conversation by Joonmyun’s father, who pats him on the back and offers him a seat. Once again, Joonmyun takes a while to notice she has been staring, and promptly quits it, looking at her side to find Kyungsoo’s forgotten teacup there.

She sighs. It’s almost full, and there is an odd impulse inside of her to drink it just so it won’t be wasted; but that would be unthinkably rude of her, so she brushes the thought off immediately. For the rest of the meal, as she savors her sweets and slightly warm juice, she feels like the teacup is staring at her, mocking her the same way Kyungsoo had when he kissed her hand.

 

 

 

At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Joonmyun hears her mother’s voice. “Mind if I go in?”

In all honestly, Joonmyun doesn’t like talking to her mother before bed; or rather, she fears it a little bit. Being alone with her mother has always been distressing for her.

“No, come in,” she answers resignedly, directing a sad glance to the mirror as the door clicks open, then closed. Mrs. Kim is still wearing the same outfit she has worn for dinner, a light lavender dress that reminds Joonmyun of a fading bruise. Joonmyun has never liked that dress.

“I’m so glad to have you home, love,” Mrs. Kim says, sitting down on Joonmyun’s bed. From the mirror of her dressing table, Joonmyun can easily catch her glance; she chooses not to, concentration on the brush in her hand instead. “This year, I’ll be a bit busy with research, but you may still talk to me whenever you want. Understood?”

“Sure, ma,” it’s what she always says. But, this year, there’s a difference. “Research with Doctor Do?”

“Precisely,” Mrs. Kim answers, clasping her hands together in delight. “It’s a big privilege that he wanted to study our garden! I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. He’s one of the most respected botanists of our time, you know,” Joonmyun quietly zones out as her mother goes on about how respected Do Hwangsoo is and how he fell in love with her garden – _our_ garden, as she called it, even though Joonmyun had never done a thing in its favor – on a Sunday all but three months ago. As Joonmyun finishes brushing her long, black hair, she fishes a ribbon out from her small crystal casket and starts braiding it, concentrating on the process more than it’s necessary.

“… and what about Do Kyungsoo?”

She misses a turn, ruining a section of the braid. Sighing quietly, Joonmyun goes back a step. “What about him?” She asks back safely.

“Well, I’m asking you. I saw that you two talked this afternoon,” there’s a hint of humor in Mrs. Kim voice – one that, unfortunately, reminds Joonmyun of Kyungsoo’s jesting laugh. “What do you think of him?”

Joonmyun keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. “He’s nice to talk with,” she declares finally, not sure whether she’s telling a lie or not. “And he seems to be smart, too.”

“Oh, that he is,” the answer seems to please her mother, and she considers it a job well done. “I was hoping you would like him, since the two of you are about the same age. Well, he might be busy most of the time, but, if the two of you have time, would you take a stroll with him around the garden? Then maybe you can talk more.”

Joonmyun nods, pursing her lips as she ties the ribbon at the end of her braid. She figures that, if successfully entertains Do Kyungsoo in his free time, her mother will be happy enough to let Baekhyun and Jongdae visit eventually, so she complies. “I will, definitely,” is what she says, and her mother beams, getting up to kiss her forehead.

“Thank you, love,” she says, caressing Joonmyun’s cheek, and Joonmyun’s smile is quite a convincing one. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

That night, right before falling asleep, Joonmyun thinks about school, and if she can convince the maid to prepare sweets for when she takes her stroll with Kyungsoo.

 

 

 

Despite all the thought Joonmyun has put in having to entertain Kyungsoo, three days go by and the boy is nowhere to be seen. Joonmyun only meets him during the meals, when he’ll passively take part of the adult’s conversation, and can’t seem to catch his shadow any other time. Soon, the initial excitement of a change fades, and her usual summer ennui leads Joonmyun to her most used room in the mansion; the music room.

She has picked up new pieces during the school year, which is a relief, for she can practice them instead of playing the same waltzes and minuets her mother had taught her when she was seven. Her family’s piano feels a bit different from the school’s piano, older, less reliable. She’s rather sure some keys are off-tune, but not enough to bother her, and she soon starts to play.

Just as she’s reaching the second movement, after stumbling through the first a few times, there’s a knock on the door. She halts, frowning at the strangeness of having someone interrupt her at a time like that, and briefly wonders if it’s Kyungsoo. It’s not; it’s a maid, one of the younger ones whose names Joonmyun can never quite remember.

“Please forgive me, Miss Kim,” the maid bows in apology. “There’s a phone call for you.”

Joonmyun widens her eyes in excitement, and quickly thanks the maid before rushing downstairs. A phone call for her must mean it’s either Baekhyun or Jongdae, finally making contact from their families’ homes.

“Yes, Kim Joonmyun speaking,” she greets when she picks up the phone, heavy and cold in her hands. She has been taught how to answer the phone, but doesn’t have much experience with it.

“Well, hello, Miss Kim Joonmyun, what an honor it is to speak to you,” that sardonic tone is no one’s but Jongdae’s. Joonmyun lets out a laugh, both at the jest and at the relief of finally speaking to one of her dear friends, and takes a seat on a nearby chair. “I’ll let you know that I would’ve called you later, but it seems like the phone is always taken these days. So? Are you fed with the roses yet?”

“Always,” Joonmyun sighs, the honesty allowing her to relax.

“Oh, darling. I’m truly sorry for taking so long to call,” Jongdae replies sympathetically, and Joonmyun can picture her face, the concerned frown, the twist of the lips. “Baekhyun told me she’d call as soon as she could. She hasn’t yet, has she?” Upon Joonmyun’s negative answer, Jongdae growls. “Must’ve forgotten. All she thinks about when she visits her grandmother is stuffing her face and showing off to her cousins.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to meet up with you just yet, though,” Joonmyun confesses, drawing imaginary patterns on the surface of the chair’s arm absentmindedly. “There’s something I must do first. Only then my mother would allow it, I believe.”

“Hm? An errand?” Jongdae sounds like she’s in slight disbelief. “What would it be?”

Joonmyun opens her mouth to answer – and hastily closes it as she notices Kyungsoo’s figure by the door.

“About that—I should talk to you later,” Joonmyun stutters out, suddenly aware of the un-lady-like posture she has assumed on the chair. She hastily fixes it, embarrassed.

“Oh, is it right now? Great. This means we shall meet soon then,” Jongdae’s carefree voice is a harsh contrast with the uncomfortable atmosphere between Joonmyun and Kyungsoo, whose eyes seem to be focused on a point above Joonmyun’s head. “I’ll call you later. And I’ll tell Baek to call you. Take care, will you?”

“I will. Thank you,” Joonmyun answers a bit sadly, not wanting to let go of the call so soon, but knowing she must. “Stay well.”

“You too. Bye-bye,” is the last thing Jongdae says before being replaced with silence. Joonmyun promptly hooks the speaker back into place, and turns to smile at Kyungsoo.

“Good afternoon,” she greets, getting up. Apparently, he had been admiring a painting, one that Joonmyun has taken for granted since she turned ten; a bouquet of large, white roses, with one single light pink one among them. In all honesty, Joonmyun failed to see what in the painting could’ve attracted such a fixed glance from the short boy.

“Good afternoon,” he eventually greets back, bowing in a brief curtsy. Even though it’s done properly, Joonmyun is not comfortable with it; she’s afraid he might be mocking her again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call. My apologies.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kyungsoo. I was almost finished,” the lie slips out too easily. “Taking a break from the research?”

“As an apprentice, there’s only so much I can help with,” Kyungsoo replies, eyes travelling to one painting to another. Usually, Joonmyun would rarely remember the paintings were even there, so it’s strange to see someone appreciating them.

Straightening the skirt of her dress, Joonmyun gets to her feet. “So, since you’re free… would you like to take a stroll in the garden?” At her offer, Kyungsoo looks away from the paitings and glances right at her, into her eyes, as if scanning her intentions. Joonmyun almost takes a step back. “The weather is so pleasant today! And I’d like to hear from you about the roses.”

Kyungsoo frowns lightly. “I suppose you’ve heard enough from your mother about them,” it sounds like a question, and it makes Joonmyun feel slightly cornered.

“Well, yes,” she admits. “But… I thought you’d enjoy talking to me about them.”

The sentence feels so heavy in the air that Joonmyun starts thinking it must’ve been impolite of her to say so. No matter how much etiquette training she has had as a child, there are always situations textbook examples don’t cover, and that moment, Joonmyun is sure, it’s one of those situations. However, when she’s about to apologize for her indelicacy, Kyungsoo smiles – wide and pristine, startlingly sincere.

“I admit I would,” is what he says as he lowers his eyes, shrugging. Joonmyun thinks she knows what’s different about his smile this time – it reaches his eyes completely, in opposition to the slightly sardonic grin she had seen Saturday. It might be his genuine smile. “Thank you for offering, Miss Kim. I’d love to take a stroll in the garden with you.”

“Shall we go, then?” Happy to have succeeded at her task, Joonmyun is already guiding him outside the room, right to the front door, where she gets her hat and shawl. There, a maid is dusting the decoration, so Joonmyun communicates her that they’re going out for a bit.

“Should I prepare something for you to eat, miss?” The maid asks, not sparing a look to Kyungsoo. Joonmyun detects a hint of pink in the maid’s complexion, and the realization makes her want to giggle.

“What do you think?” Joonmyun asks Kyungsoo, who shrugs. Joonmyun decides to take the matter in hands. “We’ll pass for today, thank you. It won’t be long till we’re back.”

“Understood. Please excuse me,” the maid quickly scurries off, eyes trained on the floor, and Joonmyun lets a grin slip.

Outside, it’s very sunny, but not scorching hot; it’s comfortable enough for Joonmyun to forgo the parasol. With the hat on her head, she offers her arm to Kyungsoo, who accepts it a bit shyly. Ah, true, he was almost Joonmyun’s age… perhaps she should’ve let him offer her his arm instead… slightly embarrassed, Joonmyun clears her throat, but fails to find something to talk about, so they fall into silence.

That’s all she feared would happen. The atmosphere is quite suffocating, made even worse when they enter the garden, which always seemed to be so much more silent than the rest of the backyard that Joonmyun once thought she could hear her thoughts echo there. It’s terrible; she must find something to comment on, and quick, even if it makes her seem foolish.

“Mr. Kyungsoo, what do you think—” she must’ve startled him a little, for she feels his arm jerk up. Glancing at him, she lets their eyes meet. “Sorry. What do you think of the disposition of the garden? I mean, my mother’s idea of ordering them by color.”

“You mean the gradient she created?” Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, as if giving it some thought. “I haven’t seen all of it, but she told us – me and my father, I mean – that she planted the roses so to create a gradient from caramel to red.”

“That’s what I meant. Thank you,” Joonmyun feels silly. “What do you think of it?”

At that, Kyungsoo looks away, frowning slightly. He lets go of Joonmyun’s arm, which leads her to halt still, rather confused. Kyungsoo walks straight over one of the sides of the passage they were following, kneeling down to study a bush more closely.

“I find it an interesting idea,” he finally answers, and Joonmyun moves closer to him. His fingers are grazing a large, light yellow flower, one with so many petals that Joonmyun finds it heavy to look at. “It’s rare for a garden to have an order so defined. Usually, the color arrangement is more abstract, but here’s it’s very direct and concrete. I find it admirable. It works well, too.”

Joonmyun nods, watching the way he delicately holds the rose up, as if to analyze it; then, apparently satisfied, Kyungsoo gets to his feet, dusting his knees carelessly.

“What do _you_ think of it, Miss Kim?” Kyungsoo asks, resuming the walk, not offering his arm for Joonmyun to take. She follows him, and tilts her head to the side at the question.

“Excuse me?”

“What do you think of Mrs. Kim’s garden?” They’re in a transition section, the few meters between the entrance – walled by golden and light yellow roses – and the first atrium, which Joonmyun knows to be the place for the white roses. Where they are standing, the flowers are a gentle champagne color, so subtle that someone could easily take them for white.

Joonmyun bites her lip, thinking about what to answer. “Well, of course, I find it very beautiful,” she starts off safely, mentally counting how many steps would take them to the atrium. “I don’t know much about roses, though. My mother tried to teach me the technical details, but I never memorized them.”

Kyungsoo nods distractedly, eyes trained on the roses. “Perhaps you’re just not interested,” he comments offhandedly.

“No, that sure isn’t the case!” Another lie that comes out easily. “I do love the roses, Mr. Kyungsoo. I just don’t know them very well, when I truly wish I would.”

 _Too_ easily. Joonmyun is surprised by her own words. Where has that thought come from?

Kyungsoo seems to be thinking the same. He stares at Joonmyun analytically, as if studying possible causes for her to have said that, and the scrutiny makes Joonmyun’s cheeks heat up all so slightly. She faces away from him, glance falling on a nearby bush, one that bears cream-colored flowers with the faintest tinge of peach at the tip of its petals.

“My mother has some catalogues in the library,” she says, walking towards the bush to look at the roses from up close. “There, she has a list of all the roses she cultivates. Even ones that are still in the greenhouse. When I was small, I tried reading it,” once, when her twelve-year-old self had been bored out of her mind. “But I couldn’t finish it. There are too many things I don’t know.”

Perhaps she just wants to hear Kyungsoo talking about them. That must be it; she’s merely trying to entertain him. Or, perhaps, being with someone her age who likes the roses has broken her out from her disenchantment with the garden, and true interest is blooming inside of her at this very moment. For her, it’s still hard to tell. It’s a feeling that requires careful study.

Seeming to have reached the same conclusion as her, Kyungsoo walks towards her, and crouches near her feet to meet the bush at eye level. Joonmyun hesitates for a moment, then does the same, kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Let’s start with the basics then,” Kyungsoo says, studying the rose with a concentrated expression. “This one is a floribunda. You don’t know any of the classes, do you?” Joonmyun promptly shakes her head. “Very well. This class is called floribunda because it has many petals. It’s a hybrid class, originated from breeding polyantha roses with hybrid tea ones…”

 

 

 

They only leave the garden when the sun starts to set. By then, the gardeners have come out for maintenance, and both Kyungsoo and Joonmyun are quite hungry. To tease Joonmyun, Kyungsoo keeps talking about food until they reach the main house, and Joonmyun can do nothing but whine and plead him to stop.

“I might collapse from hunger,” she threatens at some point.

“I could carry you on my back,” Kyungsoo retorts, and Joonmyun can’t avoid the snort she lets out. “What’s that? You don’t think I can?”

“I’m sure you can, Mr. Kyungsoo,” she reassures him, but not very convincingly, and he shoots her a mock-disdain glance. She chuckles, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me. I had fun hearing about the roses from you.”

Kyungsoo smiles, surprisingly sweet and unguarded, and shrugs. “You’re welcome to invite me again anytime. You have yet to learn lots if you want to call yourself an amateur.”

“How cruel!” Joonmyun exclaims, laughing, and Kyungsoo laughs too. “I shan’t invite you out anymore. Next time, I’ll ask one of the gardeners to teach me instead.”

“That I can’t allow.” The remark is cheeky, and Joonmyun is ready to retort with an objection, but Kyungsoo adds, “I’d be in pain to see you learning from anyone else.”

And that single remark is enough to render Joonmyun silent.

 

 

 

At night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door. Joonmyun guesses it must be her mother, and has a brief dejá vu when telling the guest to come in. It’s no one but Mrs. Kim herself.

“Mind if I go in?” That night, she’s wearing a dark green dress, one that’s a bit loose on around her shoulders. Joonmyun consents, pausing the brush for a moment.

Mrs. Kim sits on Joonmyun’s bed. “I heard you went out with Kyungsoo today,” she starts off, voice perfectly neutral, and Joonmyun feels her blood run cold.

“Just to the garden,” she’s quick to say. “He seemed bored.”

Her mother nods slowly, eyes unfocused, pensive. Joonmyun feels like a cornered animal. “He taught me about the roses,” she adds, trying to justify herself. “It was interesting. I learnt about classes, and breeding.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Kim smiled, which gave Joonmyun a little relief. “I didn’t expect that. Did you have fun?”

“Yes. I feel a tad smarter.” At that, Joonmyun’s mother laughs heartily. She must be making fun of Joonmyun. It doesn’t matter; at least she’s in a good mood. “Mother… I’m sorry for changing the subject, but…”

It makes her mother tilt her head in curiosity. “What is it, love?” She’s still smiling.

“I… want your permission for something,” Joonmyun starts off.

 

Saturday comes, and usually Joonmyun would sleep in, but the car has left to town at eight, and she had been pacing around since then. Her mother had advised her not to go along, since the trip is lengthy and Joonmyun gets carsick easily, but as the hours go by Joonmyun finds herself regretting having stayed at home.

“They’ll probably be back in time for lunch,” Joonmyun’s father offers by way of reassurance when he finds her at the reading room.

“Would you like some herbal tea, Miss Kim?” Several maids ask her in regular intervals, all of which Joonmyun dismisses with a strained smile.

“Do you want to take a walk?” Kyungsoo surprises her by offering when he finds her in the piano room. She stops toying with the piano keys in order to turn around to face him, and finds him at the door, hands in pockets, sleeves rolled up. He doesn’t seem like he has been working, but his hair is slightly mussed. Joonmyun briefly wonders if she should warn him.

“The sun is too bright,” she says. “You might get burnt.”

“We can use parasols,” he retorts, leaning against the doorframe. 

Joonmyun sighs. She doesn’t want to turn him down, but… “I’m expecting guests,” she replies apologetically. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. Though, after lunch, I’ll probably take them for a walk through the garden. Would you like to come along?”

He eyes her with certain hesitation. His eyes seem even rounder today. What is it about him that he can suddenly look so young…? 

“Are you sure I won’t be a nuisance?” Joonmyun chuckles at that.

“Don’t be silly. We’d love to have a specialist with us,” she says, and he smiles shyly. Seeing him smile like that makes Joonmyun feel calmer, somehow. 

“Well,” Kyungsoo starts, shrugging with fake nonchalance. “Since you finally called me just Kyungsoo, I might agree to go.”

Joonmyun stops smiling. Widening her eyes, she brings a hand to her mouth. “I did?” She questions, mortified. “I’m so—”

“Don’t. Stop right there,” he interrupts her. “It was terrible to have you calling me ‘mister’ all the time. I’d be glad not to hear it from you again.”

That… actually makes sense. Joonmyun is older than him after all. With a smile, she concedes. “Then, Kyungsoo, you’re officially invited to today’s visitation to Mrs. Kim rose garden of wonders.”

Kyungsoo laughs, doing a mock curtsy. “I’d be honored to be there, milady. It’ll be a pleasure to meet your friends as well.”

“You’ll certainly like them. They—” Joonmyun interrupts herself as she hears a distant sound. She’s almost sure – it’s a car approaching the house. “It must be them!” She shouts, sprinting up from the piano bench and flying down stairs, not caring whether Kyungsoo follows her or not. 

Joonmyun guessed it correctly; they have finally arrived. Maids and butlers are grouping around the door, and Joonmyun’s parents, as well as Kyungsoo’s father, appear in the entrance hall one by one. Joonmyun is the one standing the nearest to the door, smiling in expectation and low-simmering anxiety, wearing one of her favorite dresses and a pearl hairpin to hold her fringe in place. 

Then, finally, the bell. The butlers pull the doors open from inside – and standing there, on each side of the chauffeur, stood Jongdae and Baekhyun, both with suitcases in hand and smiling widely.

“You’re here!” Joonmyun exclaims excited, running to them. She mustn’t hug them in front of her family, of course, but she holds their hands tight, smile so wide it could hurt her. Their smiles are identical to hers, wide and brilliant. “How was the trip? Too tiresome?”

“Fine as it could be! Thank you for sending someone,” Baekhyun says, turning around to mutter a thank you to the chauffeur, who bows in response, the tips of his ears bright red. Joonmyun can’t blame him; in her summer dress, lace gloves, and braided hair, Baekhyun looks almost too charming. 

“Here, let me introduce you to my family,” she turns around to find her parents smiling expectantly. It’s the very first time Joonmyun has friends over her house; when she asked her mother for permission, she had been more enthusiastic about it than Joonmyun expected. “My mother, and my father,” they bow in curtsies, as do Jongdae and Baekhyun. “And also, these are Doctor Do Hwangsoo and his son, Do Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo has unrolled his sleeves and fixed his hair, restoring his usual adult air, and both he and his father bow in deep curtsies. “They’re botanists who’ll stay with us for the summer. Everyone, these are Byun Baekhyun and Kim Jongdae, my friends from school.”

“Thank you for having us over,” Jongdae thanks as she and Baekhyun bow. She, too, looks remarkably pretty, but more mature than Baekhyun, dressed in bright blue dress in contrast to Baekhyun’s white. 

Joonmyun’s mother is quick to go greet them, making them questions about school and how Joonmyun acts at the dorms, and Joonmyun has to pretty much pull them away from her grasp, arguing that they’re probably tired from the long car ride and want to eat and rest. That causes an immediate change of actions in Mrs. Kim, who immediately walks off to make sure lunch will be served soon, and so Baekhyun and Jongdae are free to follow Joonmyun into her room and rest for a short bit.

“So, are you a princess of some small country or…?” Baekhyun comments jokingly as soon as they’re alone together. Joonmyun laughs heartily. “Perhaps a countess?”

“Stop it,” Joonmyun whines. 

“Can you imagine the lunch table?” Jongdae joins the fun. “There must be all the kind of fancy food. Like a whole boar.”

“Well, you’ll be disappointed. I’m going to change,” she announces, already undoing the back strings of her dress, and Baekhyun lets out a squeak.

“Don’t just _undress_ all of sudden!” She complains.

“I’d like to briefly change subjects,” Jongdae raises her hand solemnly. “And ask: Joonmyun, please, tell me more about that rather charming lad that was at the hall.”

Joonmyun turns around to face her, dress falling off her shoulders. “You mean Kyungsoo?”

“I sure do,” Jongdae grins. “Is he, by any chances, your fiancée?”

Joonmyun widens her eyes at the question, flushing bright red. “He’s not! Jongdae, I told you! He’s a botanist!” She turns away from her friends, trying to hide her colored cheeks. “He and his father are here to study my mother’s roses. That’s all.”

“I had no idea you could turn so red, Joonmyun,” Jongdae remarks, laughing.

“Even her bosom blushed, did you see?” Baekhyun adds, and both giggle, ignoring Joonmyun’s pleads for them to stop.

“I shan’t take you to the garden today, as punishment,” Joonmyun mumbles as she changes into a more comfortable dress. “And then, none of you shall properly meet Kyungsoo. I’ll tell him not to talk to any of you.”

“Why, trying to keep him all for yourself?” Baekhyun retorts, and they laugh even more, and Joonmyun flushes even brighter. 

 

 

 

 

As previously promised, after a rather sumptuous meal – one that didn’t feature a whole boar, but was generous nonetheless – Joonmyun and Kyungsoo take Baekhyun and Jongdae to the garden. Joonmyun lends Kyungsoo her plainest parasol, and forgoes the shawl, for it’s very warm outside. The four of them leave the main house at three, and, as soon as they enter the garden, Baekhyun and Jongdae dissolve in interjections of wonder.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life,” Jongdae exclaims when she lays her eyes in the light peach-colored climbers, which gradually give place to cream-colored blossoms along the aisle. 

“I want to get married in this garden,” Baekhyun announces, looking around with an absolutely charmed expression. Jongdae snorts.

“You? Married?” She scoffs. “To whom?”

“To you, of course,” Baekhyun spits back sardonically, and Joonmyun chuckles.

For the first minutes of the visitation, Joonmyun takes the role of the guide, telling them stories about the garden’s previous shapes and the adventures she has had there. It takes her a while to notice how quiet Kyungsoo is, watching her talk with a distracted expression. Figuring that Baekhyun and Jongdae would much rather have him guide them, Joonmyun thinks of a way to transfer the attention to him.

“And you see, these two,” she points at two similar bushes, ones that are subtly different from each other in the small details. “They’re actually from different classes. Strange, is it not? They really look alike.”

“Indeed,” Jongdae frowns, as if trying to put her finger on the difference.

“But, some days ago, Kyungsoo taught me the exact difference between them,” Joonmyun says, turning to smile at Kyungsoo, who seems to have been taken by surprise by the mention of his own name. They make brief eye contact, and Kyungsoo looks away to glance at the roses. “I’m not sure if I remember well, thought. Something about the shape of the petals.”

“Mainly, the shape and quantity of petals,” he finally speaks up, stepping forward to kneel beside her. Joonmyun gives him space as he starts explaining said difference to Baekhyun and Jongdae, who stare at the flowers in dazed concentration. Joonmyun, on the other hand, watches Kyungsoo instead. His serious expression as he talks about the origins of tea roses, and the smooth deepness of his voice, and his round, large eyes, and his heart-shaped lips… nowadays, Joonmyun doesn’t even mind that Kyungsoo makes fun of her so often. He’s a charming companion to have around.

From then on, Kyungsoo takes over the talking, telling the three women all about classes, traditional hybrids, and modern attempts at breeding. They walk through the yellow aisle and the white atrium, eventually reaching the intersection between the white roses and the upcoming pink ones. Those, as Kyungsoo teach them, are blush roses.

“These—these are the most beautiful roses I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Jongdae coos, kneeling beside a bush with large, white flowers with very rosy centers. It is, indeed, very beautiful, and it emits a heavenly scent. “I want to marry it. May I marry it? Who must I speak to so to propose to this rose?”

Kyungsoo snickers quietly. Baekhyun’s snide laughter is much more noticeable. “These are called ‘Maiden’s Blush,” Kyungsoo informs, crouching near the bush to see it better. Joonmyun and Baekhyun following him, kneeling on the grass. “It’s a very traditional breed. Can any of you guess its class, I wonder?”

The three women exchange glances. At last, Baekhyun raises her hand, “Polyantha?” Kyungsoo shakes his head.

“Bourbon?” Jongdae tries, and Kyungsoo once again shakes his head. Then, he turns his glance at Joonmyun, eyeing her expectantly, and Joonmyun tries to think.

“Um… Provence?” She guesses hesitantly. Kyungsoo smiles at her.

“Close enough. It’s an Alba,” he explains, glancing back to the blossoms. “Some of them are completely pink, but they’re most known for being white with very slight blush shading. Hence its name – Maiden’s Blush.”

“It reminds me of someone,” Baekhyun comments, turning to look at Joonmyun. Jongdae, catching the hint, chuckles, also looking at Joonmyun, who pouts at them. 

“Funny you should say that,” Kyungsoo replies, getting up on his feet. He has a grin on his lips, and, from the corner of his eye, he, too, is looking at Joonmyun – yet, it lacks any sort of malice. It’s… unexpectedly tender. “I was thinking the same just some days ago.”

Much regretfully, Joonmyun flushes pink, and Baekhyun and Jongdae break in giggles, discussing the similarities between the rose and the actual maiden they knew. 

 

 

 

 

They stay out for as long as they can, and come back to the main house just as the sun sets. The hem of Joonmyun’s dress gets wet where it brushes along the wet grass, so she must change before dinner, and leaves Baekhyun and Jongdae for Kyungsoo to entertain for a minute.

As she enters the room, she’s quick to notice a small milk-colored envelope on her dressing table. With curiosity, she checks the remitter; and there, in simple calligraphy, is written a name Joonmyun hasn’t heard of in an eternity.

Quickly and automatically, she slides one drawer open, and throws the letter inside, hiding it among her hairpins and ribbons. Then, she forces herself to forget about it, and is quick to change clothes.

 

 

 

 

“Today was so much fun,” Jongdae comments while brushing Joonmyun’s hair that night. It’s like they’re back to the school dorms; the three of them together on Joonmyun’s bed, chatting as Jongdae braids Joonmyun’s hair. “Your mother’s garden is beautiful. It’s hard for me to understand why you hate it.”

Joonmyun is slightly taken aback by the remark, but soon she remembers; remembers the apathy, the feeling of being trapped among the roses that are everywhere, in the library, in the paintings on the walls, every Sunday when visits came. That summer, because she always has Kyungsoo to be with, she forgot how much she loathed the garden.

“I don’t think I hate it,” she admits, watching Baekhyun play with her ribbons. “I just don’t like boredom. The garden was merely an illustration of that.”

“Mm,” Jongdae hums in acknowledgement, and Joonmyun can’t see her face, but she sees how Baekhyun looks up and grins. “Perhaps it now illustrates something else.”

“Perhaps it now illustrates a young botanist you know,” Baekhyun adds, and Joonmyun groans.

“Cease this, you two,” she complains, but it’s not enough to stop them.

“Wouldn’t it be good for you two have your wedding at the garden? What a ceremony it’d be,” Baekhyun comments dreamily. 

“If you look closely, the two of you look like a married couple already,” Jongdae points out, and they giggle.

“Please stop,” Joonmyun frowns sadly, her heart fluttering at the thought. A wedding in the rose garden… an image materializes in Joonmyun’s mind, the guests looking at her in admiration; her mother in the first row, smiling with pride, and her father tearing up; and, in the gazebo, wearing a pristine white suit, Kyungsoo, waiting for her with a brilliant smile… “I beg you, stop. He’s just here to—”

“Study the roses,” Jongdae completes, disdainful.

“Sweep you off your feet,” Baekhyun says at the same time, causing both of them to burst in giggles once more. Joonmyun groans again, hiding her face with her hands. 

Joonmyun really wishes they wouldn’t keep making that joke. It’s hard as it is not to think such thoughts during the day, when they’re alone, just the two of them, and Joonmyun’s imagination betrays her reason. It’s hard as it is to look at Kyungsoo’s smile, at his forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves, and his small, relaxed figure, and not to wonder, not to get lost in possibilities. It’s hard as it is to obey her principles when there’s a faint, distant voice in her mind that tells her that this might be her only chance in this lifetime.

At those times, there’s nothing left for Joonmyun to do but to look away, to recall a name, a lost story, and regain her resolve. She might be ready to learn to love roses, but it’s far too early for her to learn to love men.

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun and Jongdae stay for three days. During these, they develop a really fun friendship with Kyungsoo, and the four of them play together the most they can. Kyungsoo tells them about his school, and they tell him about theirs, and the two schools are completely different in every possible aspect. They take turns playing the piano, with Kyungsoo and Baekhyun performing a rather disastrous quatre-mains and arguing for the rest of the day, and Joonmyun attempting to play a piece backwards under the pressure of a challenge. They have tea at the garden on Sunday, feasting on the various treats Mrs. Kim serves to the visitors, and escape to the fountain’s backside, where they hide and chat for the rest of the day, amidst the pink roses. During all that time, Baekhyun and Jongdae make an effort to try to leave Joonmyun and Kyungsoo alone together, but Joonmyun is quick to notice, and quick to avoid it.

Eventually, they leave. Joonmyun has to hold the tears back, remind herself that she’ll see them soon, just as the summer ends and she goes back to school. Kyungsoo is there to say goodbye to them too; he kisses Jongdae’s hand and bids her goodbye with a smile, but hesitates on purpose when it’s Baekhyun’s turn. In response, Baekhyun steps on his toes when she hugs Joonmyun. And, like that, they’re gone.

It’s easy to tell that Kyungsoo, too, might miss having them there already. The afternoon after they go is strangely silent, with both of them in the reading room trying to fill the silence. The only thing that saves that day from ending in a rather melancholic note is that, eventually, while searching for a good book to read, Kyungsoo finds one of Mrs. Kim’s rose catalogues.

“Look at this!” He exclaims, pulling the bulky notebook off the shelf. It’s a bit dusty, and it happens to be one of the older volumes, but Kyungsoo lights up when he skims through it. “It’s a catalogue!”

Joonmyun immediately abandons the romance she’s reading – one she could probably recite in her sleep by now – and runs to kneel on the floor beside him. “That’s one of the old ones,” she says, faintly remembering the occasion of its completion. In regular intervals of four or five years, her mother would run out of pages in her enormous notebooks, so she’d archive them in the library and start a new one. That one had been closed when Joonmyun was around five years old. “The current one is certainly at the greenhouse,” she remarks, but Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to mind, as he’s already going through it.

In one of the first pages, there’s a map of the garden, carefully drawn and colored in watercolor. It portrays the older color scheme, the one Joonmyun had grown to be familiar with; yellow, fading to orange, red, pink, then white. The drawn structure already features the fountain, only actually built when Joonmyun was seven, but it lacks some of the current side wings. 

“This is interesting,” Kyungsoo mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. “The garden had pretty much the same shape, but a completely different concept.” Joonmyun has a very faint idea of what he’s talking about.

“Yes, it remained like that for a long time,” she comments, pointing at the back area. “There’s a gazebo here, yes? I used to be there by myself a lot. The roses there were all white. It was beautiful.”

Kyungsoo hums, not seeming to pay much attention to what she said. Yet, he probably did pay attention, for he answers, “now they’re red. Have you been there yet? Since the change, I mean.”

Joonmyun shakes her head. “Not yet,” she mutters as he turns the page. In the new page, the actual catalogue begins, with a chronological list of breeds used and tested in the garden and in the greenhouse. There are several other watercolor illustrations of the breeds, all done very minutely, but, for some reason, Kyungsoo seems to have lost interest in them.

“Even though we went to the garden so often,” he comments, turning his glance to meet Joonmyun’s. “We’ve still not been to the back?”

Joonmyun shakes her head. “The furthest we reached was the center,” she says. “Then, it’d always be too late, and we’d come back home.”

Kyungsoo’s frown deepens, and he purses his lips, but says nothing. Then, after a brief moment of silence, he shuts the catalogue closed with a crack, and gets up to put it back on the shelf. He does it so suddenly and effusively that Joonmyun ends up freezing on spot, wondering if she has said something upsetting.

“Let’s go there. Now,” Kyungsoo demands as he walks back to where Joonmyun is sitting on the floor. He offers her a hand, and, when she takes it, he pulls her up. “This is your garden, too. It doesn’t feel right that you haven’t been there to see it.”

Despite herself, Joonmyun is hesitant. It feels, to her, that she’s making a risky decision, one that she might regret afterwards; however, when she realizes what a nonsense that thought is, she dismisses it. It’s just a garden, for God’s sake. There’s nothing to dread about it; it’s beautiful, and that’s it. 

“Sure,” she finally consents, and Kyungsoo smiles at her before storming out of the room, dragging her along by her hand.

She laughs when he tries to rush her through the door without her hat, arguing that she wouldn’t need it, and they play tug of war for a while until he finally consents and lets go of her. As soon as she puts the hat on, however, Kyungsoo’s hand finds her again, and they hold hands as they rush across the backyard, then across the garden. At some point, they start running, laughing, racing each other as blurs of color fly past them, white, pink, coral, carmine. When they do reach the back of the garden – the final atrium, wide, with its benches and the gazebo slightly to the left – both are panting, sweaty, and laughing breathlessly. There’s a streak of pink across Kyungsoo’s cheeks, one that Joonmyun finds unfortunately endearing, and a feeling of pleasant dread simmers low in the pit of her stomach.

“Here we are,” Kyungsoo announces, breathing hard as he glances around. Joonmyun thought that he would finally let go of her hand when they arrived, but he doesn’t, even though their palms are too warm against each other’s and slightly sweaty too. It’s not unpleasant, but…

Joonmyun looks around, taking the scenery in. It’s familiar; the gazebo, the benches, the stone footpath, the wide extensions of grass. And yet, the mere change from white roses to red makes such a difference in the scenery that Joonmyun feels like she’s visiting a figment of her imagination, a temple of her inner thoughts. Inside her, boils the temptation to just let it all out, tell the roses her innermost secrets. It’s a dangerous sensation of amazement, one she must take care with.

She’s distracted when Kyungsoo tugs her forward, this time gently, and takes her to the gazebo. Even when they follow the narrow footpath, none of them let go of the other’s hand, and this doesn’t help Joonmyun to recover from the adrenaline rush. Her heartbeat seems to be slowing down, but it’s out of rhythm. Or is it something else, the subtle feeling of lightness that hurt almost sweetly in her chest? It’s almost impossible for her to tell, the feeling too foreign, dizziness taking over her.

The gazebo is pleasantly cool, offering them shelter from the summer sunlight. They stand in the middle of it, holding hands, glancing around with distracted smiles, listening to each other’s breathing, feeling each other’s heat. 

“Maybe this is what Baekhyun was talking about,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, voice echoing all so slightly in the stone structure. “When she said she wants to marry here. Seems like an appropriate place for it.”

“Baekhyun couldn’t have known,” Joonmyun points out. “She has never been there.”

“She was still right,” Kyungsoo shrugs, and Joonmyun snickers, sure he’d never said so in front of her. “This space looks like it was built for it. The guests would sit there,” he signalized the free areas, “this could be the aisle,” he pointed at the footpath, “and here,” he turned around to face Joonmyun, a soft smile on his lips, and Joonmyun’s heart skipped a beat. A moment of silence, suspended in the air. “Here, the bride and groom would stand.”

Joonmyun feels like she’s floating; floating among the roses, in a sea of red petals and the softness of Kyungsoo’s smile. She wants the feeling to go away – and, at the same time, she wishes time would stop, and they could stay like that forever.

“You seem like you’ve thought about this,” Joonmyun comments in a quiet voice, trying to distance herself from her own pounding heartbeat. “Perhaps you, too, have dreams of marrying here?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “The thought occurred to me,” he confesses, eyes never leaving Joonmyun’s. “More than once.”

“Oh? Sounds like you and Baekhyun are a match made in heaven,” Joonmyun jokes, hyperaware of how close to each other they stand, of the warmth of Kyungsoo’s palms, of the look Kyungsoo gives her. Kyungsoo scoffs at that, rolling his eyes.

“Certainly not the one I think about when I envision my wedding,” is what he says, and the memory of Kyungsoo’s multiple invitations to the garden, his rolled-up sleeves, his low, smooth voice, and how he had compared her to a rose – they all combine to one, build a conclusion in Joonmyun’s head, and her mouth goes dry. Perhaps she should’ve seen it before. Perhaps she had, and simply ignored it.

“Kyungsoo…” his name slips from her lips like a prayer as her hands start to tremble, chest hurting, threatening to explode. 

And she can’t claim he caught her by surprise. She can’t claim him to have been forceful, or sudden, because he leans forward very, very slowly, little by little, as if expecting her to bolt away, to push him off her, to escape.

And she doesn’t. She leans in. And when their lips meet, when Kyungsoo kisses her and holds her closer, a brand new garden blooms in Joonmyun’s heart.

 

 

 

 

That night, when Joonmyun is brushing her hair before going to bed, there’s a knock on the door, and Joonmyun’s blood goes cold.

She halts still immediately, face pale, even paler than usual. Grip tight around the brush’s handle, her voice wavers when she invites the guest in, and thoughts of the hidden, unread letter flood her mind as her mother opens the door.

“Mind if I go in?”

Trying to breathe evenly, Joonmyun shakes her head, and Mrs. Kim goes in. Silently, she walks to the bed, and sits on her usual spot, expression unreadable. Never, not once in Joonmyun’s entire life, has she felt so much fear, such an intense feeling of panic and helplessness. She’d rather die, right there, right now.

“Were you at the garden today?” Her voice is calm, perfectly casual, but it perforates Joonmyun’s chest like a stake. Air leaves her lungs, and she bites her lip as she nods, praying so she won’t start crying out of dread. “You’ve been to the garden often this summer.”

“I…” Joonmyun’s voice quivers again, pathetically. “I’ve always played in the garden.”

“But last year, you barely visited it at all,” her mother points out correctly. It has been years since Joonmyun had voluntarily gone to the garden so often; for the past years, she had only been there on Sundays, for the tea. 

Joonmyun hesitates. She’s shaking. “I thought… that maybe I should be more interested…”

“This afternoon,” Mrs. Kim interrupts her. “Some of the gardeners saw you and Kyungsoo at the garden today.”

Silence.

The letter. That name. The kiss. Joonmyun ceases to breathe.

“Mother,” she starts, and the first tear falls. Soon enough, many follow. “I’m sorry.”

Her mother frowns. “What are you apologizing for, Joonmyun?”

Joonmyun can’t help the sobs. Having her mother call her by the name makes it all more painful, more unbearable. “I’ve disobeyed you,” she chokes out, letting her head fall to her arms, crying violently. “I—I’ve disgraced you,” the silhouette of a young woman climbing down the stairs, leaving in the middle of the night. “Even though I swore—I swore I’d never do it, I swore to myself, but—”

“Joonmyun,” Mrs. Kim interrupts again, firm. Joonmyun tries to hold back, and raises her head a little, so she can face her mother through the mirror. Her own eyes are red and wet, and her mother looks at her with concern. “What are you talking about? You’re worrying me.”

Is it possible that she doesn’t know about the kisses, and Kyungsoo’s confession? Could it be that she was merely told they were together at the garden, and Joonmyun had been the one to hand the truth over? Either way, it’s too late. From the moment Joonmyun let her lips be kissed by Kyungsoo, she has gone down a path with no way back.

“Today—at the garden…” admitting it’s much harder than she’d thought. The tears fall without mercy, and her chest feels tight and painful. “Kyungsoo told me he had fallen for me. And… and he kissed me.”

Mrs. Kim raises her eyebrows so high that her forehead creases in a way Joonmyun has never seen before. So she hadn’t heard about it. “Well,” she says simply, still looking surprised. “That must’ve been sudden. Did he force you to kiss you? Is this why you’re crying?”

Joonmyun shakes her head. _Quite the opposite_ , she wants to say. “I kissed him back,” is what she actually says.

“I still don’t understand, love,” her mother frowns, even more concerned than before. “Why do you seem so crushed? What is happening?”

Joonmyun sees nothing but the unread letter, and the name written in it. “I,” she starts, but a sob shakes her whole body, and her throat clamps closed. “I—I don’t want—I don’t want to end up like my sister,” she confesses in a whisper, and cries even harder than before.

Because it has been ten years the subject wasn’t mentioned.

Because it hurts her to remember, and it must hurt her mother tenfold.

Because, from the very beginning, from the very first moment she had thought of Kyungsoo as charming, her sister’s name had loomed over her, like a curse, like a warning that she would, eventually, meet a similar end.

Because there’s a letter from her in Joonmyun’s drawer, one she hasn’t read yet and struggles to forget about, seeking sweet and comfortable ignorance.

But now there’s no running away from it. Now that she has confessed her sins, she must wait for her punishment, and nothing else.

And that’s all she’s thinking when her mother gets up from the bed, walks over to her, and hugs her small body tenderly. Her mother has never been one for hugs – that would be her father’s role – so, when Joonmyun feels her arms around her shoulders, she’s so startled she stops crying, looking up with wet, wide eyes. She should be quiet, disappointed or even impassible; instead, she smiles at Joonmyun, and her eyes seem wet for the slightest of the seconds. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she pleads in a quiet voice, one uncharacteristic of her, that Joonmyun has last heard when she was a child, heaving and shivering from a fever. “I never knew you punished yourself so hard over your sister’s departure. It must be my fault for never speaking to you about it.”

A tear rolls down Joonmyun’s cheek. “I was scared of ending like her,” she mutters, sobbing quietly. “I was scared of dishonoring you.”

Her mother pulls her closer, kissing the top of her head tenderly. “I never hated your sister for what she did, Joonmyun,” she says, sadness lacing her tone. “Nor did I ask her to leave. She left on her own, because she couldn’t bear looking at me and your father in the eye anymore.”

Joonmyun doesn’t remember the details. She remembers being six years old and, one day, waking up to her mother and her older sister having a quite violent quarrel. Scared, she sought her father, but he was in the room with them, looking pale and distracted, so she ran away to the garden. That day, Joonmyun stayed in the gazebo until sunset, admiring the roses, one by one, and wondering how long it would take for them to make up after the fight.

The following day, early in the morning, Joonmyun’s sister packed her things and left the house.

No one told Joonmyun directly, but she sneaked around the house until she found out. It had been a man, they said, someone she met in town during one of her school’s walks. They had been meeting in secret for a long time, and at that part the servants would lower their voices, not daring to say out loud the reason for her visible weight gain and constant sickness. For the first months, Joonmyun had been sure that it was temporary, that her sister would eventually come back, and she and her mother would smile to each other again and chat about flowers for the whole day.

But one summer went by without her, then two, and when she noticed no one mentioned her sister’s name anymore, Joonmyun realized that no, she wouldn’t come back.

It took years for her mother to recover, even though she tried to act like nothing was wrong. It took years till her smile didn’t feel as distant, as untrue as it did after that day, and even longer for her to stop visiting Joonmyun’s room every morning, as if to make sure that her younger daughter – her _only_ daughter, as she introduced her to visitors – was still there. But it didn’t took as long for her to talk to other people as if there had never been an older daughter in the family, as if Joonmyun had always been the only one, and that made Joonmyun think about how quick would her mother erase her from the family if she ever did something wrong.

“I could never hate her,” and now, her mother’s confession brings a strange feeling of enlightenment to Joonmyun, as if she’s finally discovering the whole truth. “I would never, not ever, tell her to leave. It’s true that she did something shameful, and that she would never be seen well by society, but…” her voice trembles perilously, and Joonmyun’s chest hurts. “She’s my daughter, Joonmyun. Just like you. And she will always be, regardless of anything else.”

A long moment of silence. Joonmyun sniffs, not sure of what she should say. Then, she remembers. “I got a letter from her,” she says quietly.

“So did I,” her mother replies.

“Have you read it?” Joonmyun asks, and she nods.

“Have you?” Joonmyun shakes her head. “She has been proposed to. They’re planning to marry.”

“Really?” Joonmyun is so startled she frees herself from her mother’s hug to face her. Mrs. Kim nods. 

“They still don’t know when, but it might sometime before next summer,” she says. “They probably don’t have enough money to do it soon. I’m writing back to her, telling her I’d be glad to help them with that.”

Without warning, without giving any signs, the day Joonmyun’s six-year-old self waited for has become closer. The day her sister would meet again, smile to each other, and promise not to fight again. It took much longer than young Joonmyun thought, but it would come, at last, and the thought made Joonmyun smile, tearful and light.

“They should get married in the garden,” she suggests, and remembers her first kiss with Kyungsoo. “At the back. That area seems perfect.”

“I think so too,” Mrs. Kim chuckles. “I build it for that purpose, after all.”

 _Oh_ , Joonmyun blinks. That explains a lot. “I’ll suggest her that,” she goes on, letting Joonmyun go. “Wash your face before you go to bed, will you?”

“Yes, ma,” the brush lies momentarily forgotten on the dressing table, right beside the light pink ribbon she had sorted out for tonight. It reminds her of the rose Kyungsoo compared her to – Maiden’s Blush. An alba rose, as beautiful as a woman’s first love. 

“And Joonmyun,” Mrs. Kim halts as she walks towards the door, and turns around to face her daughter. “Love is a feeling like any other. There’s no need to fear it, or to rush it. All we can do is enjoy it. Understood?”

A smile graces Joonmyun’s lips. “Understood,” she replies.

“But remember that temperance is necessary,” her mother adds. “And please, don’t make the young Do Kyungsoo suffer too much. He seems to really like you, and his father is an important work partner of mine. Understood?”

“Understood,” Joonmyun repeats, laughing.

“Very well.” As she opens the door, Joonmyun’s mother smiles to her. “Goodnight, my dear.”

 

 

 

 

Joonmyun has never visited the garden at night. 

Not because of a specified prohibition from her mother; only because she, herself, was afraid of going out at night when younger. Now, however, she has left that one fear behind. When, after she washes her tears off and finishes braiding her hair, Joonmyun finds herself unable to fall asleep, she puts a cloak on and leaves to visit the roses.

Very silently, she leaves through the front door, a candle stolen from the pantry lit up in her hands. Her shoes barely make any sound on the stone pathway that leads her forward, so she relaxes and admires the yet unseen shape of the garden at night. The lanterns aren’t lit that night – they’re very rarely so, she remembers seeing them lit once or twice in her entire life – so she can’t see much, but the quiet atmosphere of the garden give her a feeling of secrecy and intimacy that make her remember the whispered confession Kyungsoo offered her that afternoon.

Kyungsoo. She can clearly see his face in her thoughts, glancing at her with adoration, but also a hint of insecurity, as he leans forward to kiss her. He must be fast asleep by then… or could he be tossing and turning on bed, anxious for not having heard a confession from Joonmyun? Thinking back, perhaps it had been cruel of her not to respond immediately, but, when he told her he loved her, Joonmyun’s first reaction was to stare at him in shock, and then close her eyes for a second kiss. It felt great; Joonmyun had never felt so… elated. So free, so incredibly happy. 

She crosses the garden without hurry, but not at a slow pace either. She knows where she wants to be; at the back, under the gazebo’s dome, recalling Kyungsoo’s words of love among the red roses.

And when she does arrive there, candle in hands, cheeks flushed from the cold, she’s surprised to see the area not entirely dark. The light is faint, flickering like a candle’s, and it’s enough for Joonmyun to catch a glimpse of a small, masculine figure sitting on the low walls of the gazebo.

Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo is there.

He notices her when she’s halfway crossing the distance between them, her hair starting to fall loose from her braid. Under the candle light, his face seems to light up when he sees her, even though he doesn’t smile, nor does he make any expression that’s not acknowledgement.

“Kyungsoo,” she calls when she finally reaches him. Yet, she doesn’t have anything to follow up with, so she falls silent.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks quietly, carefully casual. His coat looks too big for him, beaten and worn-out, and his hair is in disarray. Joonmyun likes that look on him. 

She shakes her head. “You neither?” The breeze sweeps past them, making the candle light dance. 

“No way I could,” he mutters in response, looking away from her in what could be resentment, or embarrassment. She blushes at that, realizing it must be her fault.

“Right,” she mumbles. It’s time for her to take action. “Today… you said you are in love with me, right?”

Kyungsoo raises his eyes to meet hers, inquiring and slightly confused. He seems to be unsure whether she’s pulling a joke on him. “I did,” and his voice comes out so firm that Joonmyun shivers at the assertiveness. “I am. In love you, I mean,” he adds, and he’s still unwavering, and that, perhaps, makes Joonmyun like him even more.

Joonmyun feels heat on her cheeks, and on the inside of her palm. She steps closer. “At the time,” she starts off, mentally lamenting that she can’t be as firm as him. Her voice gives out how nervous she is, just as much as her expression. “I ended up not answering to your feelings. So, now, since we met here, please let me do so.”

Silence follows up. Kyungsoo doesn’t nod, nor does he shake his head; he does nothing, doesn’t react at all. Joonmyun takes a deep breath.

“I… might feel the same for you,” she admits, and it’s like she, at that moment, uncages something in her chest, something wild and much stronger than her fearful self. “I’m not sure yet. It’s the first time I feel like this, and it’s hard to put a name on it. You know how you made me guess those roses’ classes and I couldn’t tell them apart? It’s much harder than that.” At that remark, Kyungsoo laughs heartily, which makes Joonmyun relax and laugh too. “But I want to be with you. I feel like this is love. So, I’m sure enough to tell you that I, most probably, am in love with you too.”

Kyungsoo is still chuckling at her comment on the roses, but it fades to give place to a gentle, tender smile. He doesn’t respond immediately; a long moment goes by with him silently facing her, admiring her. “You’re not just going along with me, are you?” He asks suddenly, and Joonmyun blinks in surprise.

“No! Why would I?” She objects, and he snorts. “When did I ever do that?”

“All the time! From the moment we first talked,” Kyungsoo points out. “I was rude to you on purpose, and you still kept talking to me. You even offered me one of your sweets. And, afterwards, you asked me to teach you about roses, even though you didn’t like them at all.”

Joonmyun frowns sadly. “How did you know I didn’t like roses?” She asks somewhat miserably. 

“You live in a house with such a rich garden, and you can’t tell Provence roses and Austin roses apart,” is what he answers. “If you liked roses, you’d have learnt that as a child.” The argument is on point, and Joonmyun can do nothing but concede, pouting slightly at the accusation. “You came to the garden every day, even though you didn’t like it, just to please me. You’re such a pushover.”

Joonmyun’s pout intensifies. “I like coming here with you,” she retorts rather quietly, straightening a crease on her coat. “I like hearing you talk about the roses. I guess I enjoy being a pushover, after all. It’s fun to go along with you.”

Kyungsoo’s smile widens, and he shakes his head at her, letting out a chuckle of pure disbelief. She feels a bit frustrated at the unromantic atmosphere, and jumps in startle when Kyungsoo climbs off the gazebo, walking towards with his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“I guess that must mean you do really like me,” he says, voice low and soft, and Joonmyun flushes dark pink.

“As I said,” she mutters, holding the candle out of the way so he can come closer. “I’m in love with you.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at that, but there’s still a smile on his lips. Silently, he turns around and blows Joonmyun’s candle out.

“You’re the most beautiful rose I know,” he whispers, and puts his lips to hers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t you think this is getting quite out of hand?” Baekhyun complains when the mail arrives at their dorm room, as they do on Saturdays, and there’s a letter from Kyungsoo to Joonmyun. “Every week! What sort of adventure is he on to send you such lengthy letters _every week_?”

“He’s doing an important research,” Joonmyun replies, holding the letter with great care. “Breeders from overseas are working alongside his father. Earlier this year—”

“Stop. Halt right there,” Baekhyun commands, and Joonmyun shuts her mouth, exchanging a humorous look with Jongdae. “I’m sick of you going on about roses. What happened to the Kim Joonmyun who detested rose gardens so much?”

“She has changed,” Jongdae interferes, hugging Joonmyun so forcefully that she practically suffocates her with her bosom. “Love has changed her.”

“Your love is going to kill her,” Baekhyun points out, and Jongdae loosens her grip against her will. “Well, regardless, there’s still another letter there. Any chance it’s addressed to me?”

“And who would even write to you?” Jongdae snorts as Joonmyun reaches for the second letter, which has Joonmyun’s sister’s name on the envelope. 

“One of my secret admirers, of course,” Baekhyun retorts smugly. “Don’t you know how incredibly popular I am among the freshmen? One of them will certainly write me a love letter, someday.”

“I pity any young girl who falls for you, Byun Baekhyun,” Jongdae rolls her eyes, turning back to Joonmyun. “Then? Is it from some grossly misguided freshman?”

“It’s for me. Sorry, Baek,” Joonmyun smiles sweetly at her friend, who huffs unhappily. “You might like the news I have for you, though. A relative of mine is set to have her wedding in my mother’s garden soon.”

“Oh!” Baekhyun exclaims, immediately putting the annoyance past her. “A wedding! Will you invite us? When is it?”

“On summer. She allowed me to invite both of you, and Kyungsoo.” At the mention of Kyungsoo’s name, Baekhyun rolls her eyes, and Joonmyun chuckles. “Maybe you could stay for a while again, like you did this year.”

“We don’t want to be a nuisance,” Jongdae says politely. “To you and Kyungsoo, I mean.”

Joonmyun can’t help the giggle that leaves her lips. “You sounded like him just now,” she offers by way of an explanation when Jongdae frowns at her.

“Disgusting,” Baekhyun spits out, leaving for her own bed. “Absolutely disgusting. Next thing we know, you’ll be referring to each other by roses’ names. And in case you already are,” she adds quickly when Joonmyun opens her mouth. “Please don’t let me know. Thank you, and goodnight.”

So Joonmyun complies, and never tells Baekhyun that Kyungsoo always starts her letters with, _To the most beautiful rose I’ve ever seen_. That night, Joonmyun stays up, reading the letter from him with aid of a stolen candle, smiling dazedly to herself.

 _Maiden’s Blush roses are once-blooming_ , he writes in the last paragraph. _Those who care for this rose must endure a year of longing, only able to see it in its prime during summer, when it colors the world with its beauty. The more I think about this exquisite, delicate breed, the more I find myself thinking of you. This upcoming year, when the Maiden Blush’s are in full bloom, I believe I will be with you, and my longing will, at last, be worth itself._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Do Kyungsoo._


End file.
